


Birth

by Littjaranmosspatch



Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: Gen, How Do I Tag, Theros (Magic: The Gathering), Theros Beyond Death, also salty because no theros beyond death story exists, theros pantheon, this is my first fic so i'm very confused, this is super short guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littjaranmosspatch/pseuds/Littjaranmosspatch
Summary: What I see is beautiful. Swirling, glowing threads, silk-like in their consistency but infinitely more enchanting. They dance and flow in waves and ropes of light. I turn around slowly and the threads thin, before sizzling into thin air with a spark, leaving behind only bare cavern walls. I feel oddly empty without them.What I see instead takes my breath away, though not because of beauty. No, beautiful is not the word for this being. The only adequate phrase to describe the thing in front of me is Majesty. A towering form, with three terrible faces and long, flowing silver hair. This being glows with the same light as the silk from a moment ago, but it no longer feels like a comfort.The great being inclines its head and speaks.“I am Klothys.”
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Birth

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyo first fic alert!   
> I don't know what the fuck I'm doing so hope you enjoy? I guess?  
> Anyway, Theros beyond death is an old set but the imagery and aesthetics deserve some writing to it's name. Soooo here's my take on Calix's birth!  
> Good luck!

A small inkling of a concept, growing into a fully formed thought. 

Me. I exist. I am me.

Then come the questions: what am I? Why am I? What was before the concept of me?   
So many questions, like a torrent, with no way of surfacing. No way of knowing how to stop and focus. Thoughts with no end, thoughts cut off before they begin, trains of thought with twisted tracks and overlapping rails. 

And then: feeling. All at once, I know I have form. The endless sea of thoughts boils down into a focused point. I know what it feels like to be me, to have the endless potential of a being of flesh and bone. I try something new. I open my eyes. 

What I see is beautiful. Swirling, glowing threads, silk-like in their consistency but infinitely more enchanting. They dance and flow in waves and ropes of light. I turn around slowly and the threads thin, before sizzling into thin air with a spark, leaving behind only bare cavern walls. I feel oddly empty without them.

What I see instead takes my breath away, though not because of beauty. No, beautiful is not the word for this being. The only adequate phrase to describe the thing in front of me is Majesty. A towering form, with three terrible faces and long, flowing silver hair. This being glows with the same light as the silk from a moment ago, but it no longer feels like a comfort.  
The great being inclines its head and speaks.

“I am Klothys.”

Flashes. I no longer see with my own eyes, but instead images flit into my consciousness, searing into my brain. Two great beings, power radiating off them, standing before Klothys in chains of light. A dark chamber, seemingly endless. Despite its size, I feel claustrophobic. A rift of brightness opens, and I feel an unexplainable flash of dread. 

“You have but one purpose.”

More imagery. The outline of a figure with curving horns, the slash of a whip made of corpses. A crack in the clouds and a spear-wielding man, clad in white, descending to the earth in a burst of light. A woman with hair like the wind and a voice like songbirds, wielding a bow and arrow. A golden man, shaping the earth with an iron grip and a shining hammer. A figure rising from the depths of the sea, riding on the back of a giant serpent.

The scenes flow faster now. A figure wading through murky waters. A woman with skin as smooth as the jar of water in her grasp. A bull-headed figure charging into battle. A woman barely discernible from the valley around her. On and on the images go, depicting everything from dark caverns filled with the stench of death to sunny fields of flowers.

Finally, an end to the onslaught. I am left dazed. One last image remains, forever at the front of my mind.

A woman, clad in shining armour and a white cape. She is not godly in her appearance, but she radiates goodness.

And I must find her. 

“Elspeth,” I say quietly. My voice bounces off the walls around me.

Klothys smiles.


End file.
